


fortuna

by RoamingSignals



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Fairy Tale Elements, Fortune Telling, M/M, Reincarnation, fairs and carnivals, lapslock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-27
Updated: 2020-05-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24406873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoamingSignals/pseuds/RoamingSignals
Summary: "your name is doyoung," says the fortune teller. "but that's not who you are. you're something else."the fortune teller says this while holding doyoung's hand. under normal circumstances, having a pretty boy hold his hand is nothing to complain about, but in reality (or in this strange space between realities) doyoung finds the entire thing very unnerving.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung
Comments: 24
Kudos: 135





	fortuna

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jeannedarc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeannedarc/gifts).



> ALRIGHT DOREN TAG IVE ARRIVED  
> i wrote this fic in appia's dms in about an hour, so thank appia this is doren but also wow you guys need more food. this is HEAVILY inspired by The Starless Sea by erin morgenstern, who is a genius. so if you like this writing style try out her novels because she does it much better.

once upon a time, a man sees a fortune teller in his dreams. 

the fortune teller is a bit of a know-it-all — definitely knows the man, for whatever that is worth — and never says anything that makes sense in the moment. "can I read you?" the fortune teller asks, and every time the man says, "yes, you may," despite never believing in anything.

"your name is doyoung," says the fortune teller. "but that's not who you are. you're something else."

the fortune teller says this while holding doyoung's hand. under normal circumstances, having a pretty boy hold his hand is nothing to complain about, but in reality (or in this strange space between realities) doyoung finds the entire thing very unnerving.

he does not take his hand back. he does not feel he needs to. "i'm doyoung, and that is my name, and you knowing that doesn't mean anything."

"of course it does," says the fortune teller. "it means you're here. it might even mean you come here again."

doyoung wakes up very confused and doesn't remember why.

another night goes by and doyoung sees a fortune teller in his dreams. this fortune teller looks vaguely familiar but doyoung can't quite place him. "who are you?" he asks.

"you cannot learn my name here," says the fortune teller. "that is not what this place is for. you learn my name in another place, before this."

"before this?" doyoung asks, although the words get stuck in his throat. there is no before this that doyoung does not remember. perhaps there is a before this for the fortune teller that doyoung should know, but despite him also being a know-it-all, doyoung doesn't know this. "when will I learn who you are?"

"do we ever know who we are?" asks the fortune teller. "look at you — how many years old and still thinking you're average."

"I am average."

"you're not average," says the fortune teller. "you're here."

doyoung wakes up very confused and doesn't remember why.

for the third night, doyoung sees a fortune teller in his dreams.

the fortune teller looks very familiar but doyoung can't quite place him. doyoung does not ask who the fortune teller is. he knows he will not be told, which is a strange thing to know.

"this will be a short visit," says the fortune teller. doyoung thinks all his visits are rather short, although this is the only visit he remembers and so the thought is also very strange. "you should agree to your friend's idea tomorrow."

doyoung would like to ask which friend, and which idea, because he has many friends and all of them have terrible ideas, but instead he says, "yes, I think that would be nice."

doyoung wakes up unusually excited and doesn't remember why.

because he is unusually excited, and unusually awake, and unusually quite a few things doyoung can't put a finger on, he replies to johnny's text right away.

_yes_ , he tells johnny (one of many friends with one of many ideas), _going to the fair would be nice._

the fair is not a very exciting place to be when you're in college unless you're with other college kids who think they are actual kids. going to the fair with johnny is very exciting.

johnny is the sort of person who enjoys the fair because he enjoys being alive. doyoung is the sort of person who enjoys the fair because there is something very nice around the corner, although he is not aware enough to sense what.

"we should get our fortunes read," says johnny, teeth black from deep fried oreo, and doyoung thinks today is a good day to agree to his friend's ideas.

the crowd is vicious with a purpose, and johnny hesitates a moment to throw away his napkin and that's it. the moment they are parted they remain parted (until there is a better moment) and doyoung only has one destination. he will meet johnny at the fortune teller, unless johnny gets distracted first.

(johnny does get distracted first, but this is also for a purpose. purpose is hard to find these days. doyoung should be thankful the universe pulled itself together in this moment and all the moments that follow.)

doyoung pushes beaded curtains aside and walks into a room that is far too smoky to be allowed. it smells like corn dogs, sweat, and something sweet. the decorations are haphazard — doyoung supposes they have to be, since they are ephemeral in the way all fairs are.

he looks at the fortune teller and says, "i've met you in a dream."

it's quite odd that doyoung recognizes something he cannot remember. he remembers now, in this instant, but only vaguely, and face to face with a living human doyoung finds his dreams are very hazy. he never realized it before. in the dream nothing has detail, like a photograph left in the sun too long. this person is in sharp definition, even if he seems like he is too bored to be sharp.

in fact, he seems very bored with doyoung and they haven't even started. doyoung hopes it's nothing personal.

"i've heard that one before," says the fortune teller. he also smells like corn dogs, sweat, and something sweet. it's hard to tell whether the room changed him or he changed the room. "I don't really read for adults often. it's only ever kids who come in here."

"am I an adult?" doyoung asks. he doesn't feel like an adult. he feels like a mess and he doesn't remember why.

the fortune teller gives him a long look, adjusts the veil atop his head, and says, "what else would you be?"

and doyoung, despite his hazy dreams and the forgotten memories, thinks — _yes, maybe this is before._

doyoung insists. "no, we've really met in a dream." although he cannot recall the dream's voice or face or feeling, or even to some extent the words. he can't remember how the song goes, if the song were a human (maybe) and the human were a memory.

"you know this isn't real, don't you?" asks the fortune teller, with a very concerned look in doyoung's direction. "this is a fake stall in a fair for children and dreamers."

"i am not a dreamer," doyoung replies. "am I? could I be?"

the fortune teller looks at him closely, expressionlessly, and says, "maybe, or perhaps you're a child."

when doyoung gives the fortune teller his hand, the glass ball between them cracks.

doyoung apologizes profusely. the fortune teller says the ball is very cheap and doesn't work anyway, and it wasn't doyoung's fault besides. doyoung is not sure it was not his fault.

"who are you?" doyoung asks, after he feels like enough time is passed and it's polite to ask.

"until the end of the week my name is some weird combination of letters one of my friends found mysterious enough for a carnival psychic," says the fortune teller. he smiles, even if doyoung can feel the judgement in it. "you can just call me renjun."

(the fortune teller's name until the end of the week was ash archangel. doyoung, had he asked, would have been delighted to know that renjun has his own friends with their own terrible ideas. renjun, had doyoung asked, would have staunchly denied being friends with donghyuck in any way.)

for the fourth night in a row — or possibly one night in a countless number of nights — doyoung sees a fortune teller in his dreams.

"you're renjun," doyoung says proudly.

"my name is renjun, yes." the fortune teller also looks proud, although still amused and also quite like a know-it-all. "are you happy to have met me?"

"I don't know." doyoung does know. he is happy. he just doesn't know why. "are you happy?"

"I am happy now." renjun smiles and there is no judgement, so doyoung thinks he's telling the truth. "meeting you was something other than happy, but I think it was still good."

doyoung wakes up very happy and doesn't remember why but he's starting to have a better idea.

he does not go back to the fair. he does not think it would be worth it, because renjun will be there but it is a different renjun. the renjun from before. this renjun has yet to take a step forward and doyoung cannot take it for him. or perhaps, something much grander will hold renjun's hand and help him take the steps like a baby bumbling in a sea of toys and other things that are more than the adults can see.

the more doyoung thinks about it, the less he thinks he is an adult.

"you can't see the future now," doyoung says to the fortune teller, the dream renjun who — for whatever reason — feels like the real renjun. "or before...in my now. but you can in your now." it doesn't make sense but doyoung is tired of trying.

"things change," renjun says, and in his eyes doyoung can see that he Sees. he can see that renjun is older and wiser and sees so much, although he looks the same as he had behind the rickety table with the broken crystal ball. there is only the subtle addition of something _other._ "sometimes people steal things that are yours and it takes a very long time to get them back."

"what did they steal?" doyoung feels like he should know.

renjun sighs. "my eyes, to be short." he looks at doyoung through the haze. "to be long, the same thing they stole from you."

doyoung feels like many different doyoung's all feeling many different things all at once. "we are made new," he says, in a voice that is his own and is not his own, is many. "is it stealing if the we we once were no longer are?" it doesn't make sense. doyoung is tired because he has been trying for a very long time.

"it is stealing," renjun says forcefully. "but for now, it is waiting."

"but you got your eyes back."

"I did." renjun tilts his head to the side and doyoung is very glad renjun got his eyes back. there are cities inside. "i'm waiting for you to find your heart. hurry up, will you? this dream is getting old."

once upon a time a fortune teller who is not a fortune teller — but should be, and will be, and deep down wants to be — stumbles upon an owl. it is an ordinary sort of owl with extraordinary eyes. the fortune teller (we shall call him ash, or perhaps he'd prefer renjun even though the week is not over) barely notices. he is too busy thinking of a pretty boy who might be more than a pretty boy, one who pushed aside beaded curtains and maybe cracked glass.

the fortune teller meets the pretty boy multiple times (by chance) and is relieved to find that no more glass cracks. he is relieved to find that pretty boy is more than a pretty boy, and in fact is a bit of a know-it-all and also sometimes looks far away like he's seeing something much more. renjun is not sure, but he continues to run into the pretty boy (with purpose) and he continues liking it. 

this is something much grander taking his hand.

renjun has met the pretty boy approximately ten times before he realizes that doyoung never introduced himself and never needed to.

once upon a time a fortune teller sees a man in his dreams.

he does not recognize the man because he cannot see (not yet) and because the dream is hazy, although if he were paying more attention he would find it is not a dream. "who are you?" he asks.

"I am called several things, but that is not what I am," says the man. he is very pretty. "I am more than I used to be, but to you i've always been the same. for most, i've always been the same."

renjun wakes up very confused and when donghyuck asks him what he dreamed about, the only answer he has is "time. I think."

donghyuck does not understand what this means and he never will. renjun does not understand what this means and he will very soon.

the dreams are memories are dreams are after, the glorious after. things are stolen and turned hand over hand until they find their way into safe keeping, and once they're in safe keeping it comes to the waiting.

once upon a time fate and time fell in love.

it was not a slow sort of love, but the kind that drops you into the sea and you find miraculously you can swim. it is a perfect, forever kind of love for perfect, forever kinds of things.

things that are not perfect and not forever are jealous of things that are. they are jealous of fate's seeing eyes and time's steady heart. they were, they are, they always will be.

jealous things are thieves.

without time's heart, he is mortal. without fate's eyes, he is mortal. without time or fate, the world spins sluggishly and without purpose. men have such incredible hubris, they believe they can write the story better than the universe and those that serve her. they cannot, they should not, they never shall. 

there are several iterations of time and fate. the first lasted the longest, and the hundreds between the first and last led short lives filled with passion. sometimes they fall in love. sometimes they never meet. there is no fate to decide things for them. there is no time to tell when this rhythm will end.

on the last night of many nights, the fortune teller dreams of an owl with extraordinary eyes and the man dreams of a heart in a jar.

(dreams are wonderful keepers, and all things return to them in due time)

the week is long past and the fortune teller has not been ash archangel for some time (he never will be again). the pretty boy does not stumble upon him by chance any longer (not that he ever did). the man meets the fortune teller on the crossroads where the fair once was.

"who are you?" doyoung asks, even though he is a know-it-all and knows the answer.

"i'm the love of your many lives," renjun replies, because he is a know-it-all and knows he is right.

renjun's eyes have cities inside and doyoung's heart is a metronome, plodding forward forever. renjun can hear it when he presses his ear into doyoung's chest. he has done this before, beyond before, with a different doyoung who wore a different face if he wore a face at all.

it is a perfect, forever kind of moment.

the end.

**Author's Note:**

> ( ˘ ³˘)


End file.
